I felt the sudden urge to cry, so I wrapped my arms around his neck, hiding my face in his shoulder so he couldn’t see my expression. He hugged me tightly without a word, his hand rubbing my back.
“Also,” he said, taking a deep breath. “When you are ready, I would like to meet your son. I don’t want him to know me as that ‘scary man’ that scared his mother.” My body tensed at the mention of Elijah. Part of me was overjoyed that he wanted to meet him, that he was aware that there was no option in which he could get me without him, that he didn’t want to pretend Elijah wouldn’t be part of… this. Part of us. But there was another part, a much bigger part, that was afraid that he’d recognize his face, his brother’s face, in Elijah. I could see it sometimes, the likeness — when the boy was
